Wednesday, June 30, 2010

It's 10:30 pm and I'm pretty exhausted but not quite ready to crawl into bed. When I slip into that twilight space, my guard drops and the dread and anxiety erupts. I get frightened...of what, I'm not exactly sure. But I start to wonder if I will survive the loneliness of the weekend ahead. Everyone in the building is going away for the holiday. Not that I want to spend it with any of them...but the fear of being alone just ignites the feelings of dread. I can enjoy solitutde but at the same time, my aloneness is not always by choice. I have spent way too much of life alone...surrounded by people yet still alone.

for the moment but the cooler temps have not helped ease my angst nor my anticipation of miserable loneliness. The month hasn't even begun (and my separation from the LOML) but I feel myself quickly succumbing to the emptiness that overwhelms me.

It sucks.

My daughter shared with me last night during dinner that she was hanging on by a thread. I know the feeling. This separation leaves me feeling shaky.

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

I related the very dramatic/traumatic weeks I had experienced since last we spoke while she listened intently. When I was done, she asked me to sit back and allow the weight of my body to be supported by the couch, to anchor my feet solidly to the floor ultimately grounding me to the earth...I was a tangled mess - my arms crossed across my chest; my fists clenched, my legs twisted and curled. I was leaning forward protecting my heart and abdomen. Slowly, I unraveled my legs and placed both feet upon the ground; then I leaned back against the couch; finally, I was able to uncross my arms and rest my hands on the cushions next to my thighs. "Pay attention to your breath." What breath? It was so shallow -- almost imperceptible. I sucked in some oxygen - a deep inhale and exhale. I could almost feel myself coming alive again, a pinkish tint rising to the surface.

She looked at me and smiled. "You know what I think. I think you handled yourself with determination. You set the boundaries of what was acceptable behavior. You stood up for yourself." I did. "You need to recognize what you did. You need to appreciate how you handled the situations." I did.

I didn't crawl into bed and sleep. I didn't crawl into the arms of the LOML and cry. And I didn't run away - emotionally or physically. Dr. B said your mother's a horror. I smiled, yeah, she's insensitive alright. Insensitive or horror. Minimizing again?

So, I left Dr. B feeling a little better, a little stronger. Determined. I didn't sleep after the last session because all this anger leaked out and came home with me. It infiltrated my sleep and robbed me of what little rest and peace I might find.

Am I not allowed to be happy with the LOML because of the way in which we began?

He has decided (again) to take a separation. Actually, I suggested that I give him a little space to deal with his personal issues and therapy. He took it to a 30-day 'no contact' separation but I told him that I needed to have some say in this. It's not just about him. He was agreeable to limited contact -- we will negotiate this tomorrow evening.

What would have happened if we were married or living together? Would he divorce me or just move out of the house? It's not a comforting thought.

I drive by his ex's house (my old house) every morning and see her and her man-friend (don't know their relationship) working in the yard, on the house, etc. She and her man are living together in my old home. The only home I ever owned - the one that was the beginning of a future that immediately fell flat. They have a life there with my grandmother's irises I brought up from West Virginia. Somehow it doesn't feel fair but then maybe it is -- maybe it's retribution. But did I really behave badly? It wasn't just me and I have been punished.

But maybe the whole incident is retribution from a previous life or the life of my parents.

Monday, June 28, 2010

I put therapy on hold beginning in May. I just couldn't make it work financially -- groceries or therapy? Rent or therapy? I wasn't really left with much of a choice.

Dr. B wasn't happy. We followed up two weeks ago after a month of no therapy. I called her two nights before my appointment and said I couldn't pay for the session so I was again cancelling indefinitely. She didn't accept no for an answer. "Owe it to me," she said. "I can't really owe it to you because I just don't have the extra income and I'm not expecting a windfall." She insisted I come anyway so I did and we talked. That session was on a Tuesday. Up until that day I was actually sleeping again but from Tuesday forward, my dreams came back along with the sleepless, anxious nights. Again I was consumed with anger and sadness and anxiety. I tried not to detach during the four weeks of "no therapy" but I guess I wasn't wholly successful.

We ended the session with some connections for possible side work (no calls however) and another appointment for two weeks. Again I told Dr. B that my finances hadn't changed and I still was unable to pay her fee. She said just come. Tonight I called to cancel the appointment. I thought I knew her schedule and called when I believed she was with a client. She wasn't. She didn't accept my no. She said come to therapy - she said you need to come to therapy - this is not the time to stop -- pay me $10 a week. $10 a week toward the full price - I don't know -- but she will wait a long time if I keep going and racking up a balance. I'm not sure what she thinks but it isn't comfortable for me. I owe so much money already -- owing more isn't helping.

I thought I was handling life much better. I thought I was healing. I am, perhaps just as not as quickly as I had imagined.

Sunday, June 27, 2010

Decreased physical problems must certainly equal improved emotional health. But it's not to be for me.

The last two months have left me with some new ailments. I was diagnosed with rosacia (which I question) - remedy is a low level dose of doxycycline and cream. Next came infections in the corneas of both eyes - antibiotic drops for a week or two.

Three and a half weeks ago while walking the dog, a freak accident occurred which sent me flying through the air stopping only when the back of my head slammed into the pavement. I saw stars, lost consciousness, and wound up in the ER. Bottom line - concussion, vertigo, ear concussion and a scraped elbow. I am still bothered by the vertigo. I spent three days in bed flat on my back. The incident left me with feelings of depression.

I had a dream last night.
One that I remembered, at long last.
I've been telling myself it's okay not to remember my dreams.
It works.

But last night I had a dream and it stayed with me.

Walking down a major city thoroughfare in the late night, I happened to look down a side street and saw a most magnificent sight -- there were all kinds of lights sparkling on the water, a full moon casting strange illuminations and reflections against the buildings and waterfront. I was totally taken aback and turned to share the view with my companions (my daughter being one of them). I quickly realized that needed to take a photo but didn't have my camera so I ran back down the street to where my car was parked, snatched up my camera, and headed back to the side street. When I went to take the photograph, however, I realized that I only had a shell of a camera -- no lens, no memory card, no sensor, no mirrors, nothing. I kept shaking it to make it whole again but to no avail. When I glanced up again at the scene I wanted to capture, everything had become completely dark. I turned to find my friends - they were gone. I walked back to where my car was parked - gone.

The empty shell of a camera -- the LOML.

I hope he can find his way back -- to me, but more importantly, to himself.

Saturday, June 26, 2010

I have faced the frustration and hurt of being "set aside" most of my life. What's more important than me? Oh, let me see...work, leisure, alcohol, others, eating, conversation, the dishes. It didn't really matter...what mattered was that I smiled and remained invisible. Do what you are told but do it in a way that's cute and entertaining and intelligent and creative but not rebellious or with anger. The insult is for adult use only.

Then along came the LOML and I felt important. I was noticed and appreciated and most importantly, loved. Loved like I had never been before. Oh, but it was a tumultuous ride. The highs were the highest and the lows, well, the lows were rock bottom for me. But I hung on because he was the first person that felt like love. He loved me from the moment he laid eyes on me. And he swore it was as true as truth can be. Hokey? Maybe, but it sure felt good and I believed him with all my heart.

Nothing is forever.

I fell off the mountain and slipped back into oblivion...invisible. But that's not acceptable and must not ever again be. Never will I go back to that place of obscurity where I just blend into the backdrop. Where did she go?

I went to see a Japanese artist today - he painted with 120 year old brushes - called it hyper caligraphy on a fabric of silk and bamboo. I thought it was beautiful. He did a demonstration and at the end, he knelt down and placed his stamp, his signature, on his painting. The translator said that this was the most important part -- his signature.

The Love of My Life (LOML) has stepped down from that sacred pedestal I placed him upon two years ago. Having been emotionally bled almost to his death, he finally made the life-saving decision to spare his heart and save his soul.

In the midst of his crisis, the pillars of strength and courage upon which I rested collapsed. It's been a crash and burn circumstance leaving nothing but my desperate attempts to extinguish the flames and stand on broken legs.

Friday, June 25, 2010

created a torrential downpour of emotions - anger, frustration, hurt, and sadness - to name just a few. She came to visit for my son's graduation. It was a tenuous time in my home - rampant anger from my son. He hated me that day and wished that death should befall me right then and there. It was hurtful but I bit my lip and carried on. Oh, I do that so well. So, here are a few of dear ol' mom's comments:

Your family is really messed up. I've never seen a family so dysfunctional. You should all go to group therapy.

No, dah. I wonder what may have contributed to such fucked-upness?

Your son has gotten kind of handsome. He was always sort of funny looking...not really very handsome.

Gee, thanks mom. How about just the first part -- Did I need to know that you thought he was funny looking? After all you thought his bastard of a father, that insane lunatic, was handsome and our son looks pretty much like him. Sensitivity not your stong suit, for sure.

Later at our small celebration, my tall, slender neighbor came over. She's a few years younger than me, a few inches taller than me, and a few pounds lighter than me.

Wow, you're the only one here who doesn't look older or bigger!

A subtle dig at the daughter who has gained weight. I can only wish to be as perfect as her. Do I sound angry? Yes, perhaps I am.

In a conversation with the Swedish husband of a friend, she was reminiscing about her house in the burbs and her apartment in the city when she suddenly blurted out,

"Oh, that was during the time that I totally neglected all my children."

Neglect? He was speechless. How do you respond to that? He thought she was kidding. Ah, he should only know - it ain't no joke!

She does know what she did was wrong. What she doesn't get is the impact it had on her children. Her actions did not go unnoticed.

Tuesday, June 08, 2010

I feel so sad today. I am surprised at how hurt I feel at the hands of my most insensitive mother. I'm in my mid-50's - why is that my mother can still dish out such hurtful words and why do they still rip into my soul? I spent my life numbing myself to my mother's ever so polite and caustic revelations.